As Much As I Wanna Be With You
by CassyR5
Summary: "They can't stop thinking about each other and it's driving them insane." How Austin & Ally try to cope without each other while on separate journeys in their careers. / AU Post-Relationships & Red Carpets. One-Shot.


**Summary: "They can't stop thinking about each other and it's driving them insane." How Austin & Ally try to cope without each other while on separate journeys in their careers. / AU post-Relationships & Red Carpets. One-shot.**

**A/N: So before we knew anything about the season three finale, I was listening to "Bumper Cars" by Alex & Sierra, and - on the assumption Austin & Ally weren't getting back together - thought the song described their situation perfectly, so I sort of applied it to this story. It's not quite what I was going for, but I think it's alright.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Austin & Ally or "Bumper Cars" by Alex & Sierra.**

* * *

><p><strong>7:13AM<strong>

She thinks about him all the time and it drives her insane.

She's been on this three-month-long tour for over a month now and she still wakes up oblivious to what has happened and where she is. And everyday she's faced with the horrible realization that they're not together anymore in more ways than one.

She manages to push this disappointment aside and get herself up to get ready for another busy day. With all of her friends occupied with accomplishing their own success, following their hearts and their dreams, she's been alone all tour, her only company her band on the other bus. But in the morning, it's just her and her thoughts, and that is the last person she wants to be with right now.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Just one more day," she tells herself. "Just one more day."

* * *

><p><strong>8:27AM<strong>

He thinks about her all the time and it drives him insane.

It's been 37 days since she left for her first tour, and he couldn't be more proud of her. But it's also been 42 days since she broke up with him, and he hasn't been right since. He's had his fair share of good and bad days, but ever since that night when she told him they might not be meant for each other, he can't seem to have any good days anymore. In the morning he wakes up oblivious, thinking he must've had some horrible nightmare that the best thing that's ever happened to him is no longer his. And then he realizes that he's living in said nightmare, and he swears he'd spend his days sleeping if he didn't have a career of his own.

Career. What good is this career - what good is anything - anymore if he has to sacrifice her to have it? It sure doesn't feel good. It kills him inside, having to be apart from her every day, knowing she let go of him for both of their sakes and he didn't try hard enough to stop her. Because he could've stopped her. He could've said something, said more, than he did. Proven that they could've worked something out. But he didn't. And now he's paying the price alone.

He looks at his clock next to him and forces himself out of bed. One more day. Just one more day closer to seeing her again.

* * *

><p><strong>9:31AM<strong>

The tour bus she's been staying in has a very similar layout to his and she swears it was someone's idea of a sick joke to stick her in it. Besides her own items and the couch and dinner table opposite from his bus, it's pretty well the same, and it's honestly making her a little homesick - well, homesick for him.

Every morning as she gets ready, she's developed this habit of making things up, imagining scenarios that could've played out if only he were here with her. She's pretty sure anyone would think she's lost it if they found out about this, and she wouldn't blame them if they did. She feels lost without him there, and this is the only thing keeping her sane.

She likes to think about the conversations they might've had, ones about their music and their future. They might've done more sightseeing than she's gotten done on her own (which is almost none, unless some of her band members drag her outside to a place they _know_ she'd regret not visiting, no matter what state of mind she's in). They probably would've written a ton of songs, and she might've asked him if he wanted to perform with her every so often. He'd decline, saying it's her first tour, he doesn't want to take the spotlight away from her. But she'd insist, and eventually he'd cave and sing a song or two with her before going backstage to watch her for the rest of the night. They might've accomplished so much together on this tour, but she'll never know. He isn't here.

There's a knock on her bus door that pulls her out of her thoughts, and then her guitarist is telling her that rehearsal is in ten minutes and if she's not there on time (again) they'll be forced to drag her out of her bus (again). She sighs, and reluctantly grabs her things in preparation for her show. She'll be on time for today.

* * *

><p><strong>10:45AM<strong>

He's actually early to the studio this morning and he's a little surprised with himself about this. But sometimes losing himself in his music is a helpful motivator to get him through his days.

And sometimes it's just another reminder of her.

He's developed this habit of writing his music by asking himself the same question everyday: "What would she do?" At first he hated himself for asking this, knowing that in the past he's learned to write without her help and surly her not being here shouldn't make him take 5 steps back in his writing abilities. But it seems without her at least available to him whenever he tries to call, he's learned that he's always been somewhat dependent on her for his music, whether as an inspiration or the writer of it, and now that he actually has to do this on his own (it seems calling her is useless as she's busy all day), he has to figure it out himself what she would do.

Like now, for example. He's been stuck writing this new song for two days, and still he can't quite seem to get the chorus right. He almost called her the other day, but just as he went to pick up his phone Jimmy walked in, and so he had to quickly put it away before he noticed. So he's been stuck asking himself what she'd do, and currently it's not working.

He goes over the song again, reading it back and thinking about the message he's trying to portray. Over the course of the past month, his only muse for his music has been their break up, but knowing not everyone wants to hear sappy and sad break up stories about how his girlfriend dumped him for the sake of his career, he's decided to actually try writing something upbeat and happy again. It's still about them, of course, but he's starting to think that just might be the problem. What _would_ she do if she were here? Well, for one, he'd like to think they'd still be together, and so there wouldn't be such a lack of inspiration. If she were here, he'd still be happy. He'd still know what it felt like to hold her hand on their table while out to dinner. He'd still know how it felt to have her kiss him every time he said something stupid but managed to make her laugh. He'd still know what love is. Now everything is just a memory, and they're all ones that kill to think about.

He's pushes the song aside and pulls out a blank sheet of paper. He has inspiration, but not for the one he wants to write. For now, he'll stick to break up songs. It seems their happiness isn't something he's ready to think about again just yet.

* * *

><p><strong>11:18AM<strong>

After over an hour of rehearsal, they finally call for a break, and she lets out a breath of relief. As much as she loves performing, some days it can be just a bit overwhelming. She grabs a bottle of water from the cooler and sits down at the front of the stage, her feet dangling over the edge. She almost expects one of the backup singers to come and join her, but after a couple weeks of only getting clipped answers and flat looks from her, they've stopped, letting her be. She knows she should feel bad about this, but she can't help it anymore. _Everything_ reminds her of him.

Sitting on the edge of the stage, she can almost believe he's here with her. While on his tour, after rehearsal and again later after his show, they'd come and sit on the edge of the stage and look out at the empty venue, taking everything in.

"Look at this place," he'd say. "It's huge! Hard to imagine a room of this many people want to see me perform."

"Well, you'd better believe it," she'd tell him, smiling at him. He was like a little kid sometimes, constantly amazed and blown away by his own success. She hopes that part of him never goes away. Pride wouldn't be a good look on him, she thinks. His innocence to his fame keeps him young, and in this business your youth is something you tend to lose.

One conversation that always comes to mind as she sits is the one he brought up about them. Not their relationship - they hadn't wanted to talk about that yet - but their career.

"I wish you were up here with me," he said one night after his show.

She gave him a confused look, curious about this sudden turn in topic. "Why?" she asked him.

He looked at her as if it should've been obvious. "Because," he said, "you're just as big a part of this as I am. Without you, I wouldn't be doing this at all." He paused, looking down again. "If you were up here, I feel like you'd understand better just how important you are to me."

She was shocked about that last part. "You've told me time and time again how important I am to your career. How would being on a stage make me feel any different about that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I just know it would. Looking out into the crowd, seeing all those people, hearing them cheer _my_ name - it's incredible. I mean, you've performed on stage. Think about how that makes you feel. _You_ help me feel that. That's a debt I'll never finish repaying you."

"But you don't owe me anything," she told him. "Yeah, I helped you get here, but you've helped me, too. My stage fright is a thing of the past because of you. I'm recording an _album_ because of you. We both helped each other. We're both important to each other. And we both need to understand that we'll never be able to repay each other for that, but we don't need to."

He looked up at her again, a new look in his eyes. It was a look of shock at first, like he didn't quite realize he was important to her, too. And then his whole face lit up as he smiled. "Really?" he said.

She nodded in response.

"I didn't realize that. Thank you," he said.

She smiled. "Thank you, too," she replied, leaning into his arms as he hugged her tightly to him.

As he pulled back, he said, "I still wish you were up here with me."

She laughed. "One day," she told him. And he's been holding her to that wish since.

Suddenly she hears her name being called, and she looks up quickly at its familiarity. But then she remembers she's not on tour with him, and that it was just her guitarist again letting her know they're starting rehearsal again in 5. She nods in understanding, but stays sitting. She wants to relive in her past for a little while longer while she can.

* * *

><p><strong>12:09PM<strong>

He's playing back a song he just finished recording and all he can think is _it's not good enough, it'll never be good enough_. His record label seems to like it enough, but to him, it's not good enough. Not when she didn't help write it.

He smiles in thanks as everyone compliments this new song, clapping him on his back as they head out for break. But he stays seated, wanting to listen to it some more, figure out the problem, find a way to fix it. Except he's pretty sure he already knows the answer, and unfortunately, she's somewhere on the other side of the country preparing herself for another great night.

Once the room is empty, he hits play again and leans back in his chair, listening intently. The song starts off okay, a little faster than he'd like, but still okay. The lyrics aren't his best, he thinks, but they never are when in comparison to her's. He thinks he might be able to live with it until it gets to the bridge, and he has to stop the song and replay it again. The melody sounds off, his voice isn't loud enough, the lyrics don't sound right, everything is wrong, it's all wrong, it's just _wrong, wrong, wrong._

He starts the song over and listens again. Now more critical, he can hear the extra pitches in his voice, the sound of the guitar slightly faster than it should be. Suddenly the lyrics in the chorus sound cheesy, his voice sounds sappy, and the whole song is just a mess. _It's wrong, wrong, wrong._

He starts the song over again, but only listens for the first ten seconds before stopping again. It's not working. The song isn't good enough, but she isn't here to tell him how to fix it.

He hits record and steps into the sound booth on his own. Break or no break, he needs to fix it. With or without her here, it needs to be changed. He opens his mouth and starts singing, hoping this time around everything will sound better.

* * *

><p><strong>1:32PM<strong>

She's almost surprised when they let her leave rehearsal for lunch on her own without question. She'd just started getting used to her band members warning her about how risky it was for her to go into town without any sort of security. It sort of made it more fun for her, the risk of it. But they're probably beginning to realize that she's not going to listen, so why bother warning her?

She's in New York today, so she doesn't have far to walk from her venue to find a restaurant. It also helps that the people in this town are used to seeing celebrities on the streets every so often, and so she doesn't think she'll have to worry about anyone trying to mob her any time soon. And when she walks into a half-busy restaurant, not one person looks her way. She smiles a little at this. Maybe today will be alright.

But then not one minute later as she waits in line, she feels a light tug on the edge of her jacket, and looks down to see a young girl about 7-years-old looking up at her with a shy smile on her face.

She smiles at her and waves. "Hi," she says.

The little girl's smile grows and she waves back. Then she asks in a very quiet voice: "Are you Ally Dawson?"

She chuckles at this, but finds she's not at all annoyed about the recognition (who could get mad at an 7-year-old?). She nods in response, then says, "I am. And who might you be?"

The little girl's smile grows even more before she replies with, "Amelia."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Amelia," she says, then looks back up, thinking the conversation might be over. She only takes one more step in line before she feels another tug on her sleeve and looks down at Amelia's questioning gaze.

She decides to lean down closer to Amelia's level and says, "Sorry, did you say something?"

Amelia nods, then asks, "Where's your friend? Austin Moon?"

She ignores the pang she feels in her heart upon hearing his name, but can feel her despair returning slowly at this question. She keeps on a smile as she replies with, "He's busy making his own music at home. So it's just me."

"Oh," is all she says.

She nods, allowing a bit of her sorrow to appear in the form of a sad smile. She's about to stand when Amelia speaks up again.

"Do you miss him?"

Her sad smile returns and she nods. "Yeah," she says. "I do miss him. I miss him a lot."

Amelia frowns. "I'm sorry."

This causes a laugh to escape from her, which is unexpected. It takes a lot to make her laugh these days. "Why are you sorry? It's not your fault."

"I know. But missing people isn't fun," Amelia tells her.

"It really isn't. It's hard," she agrees.

"Yeah. So I'm sorry," Amelia repeats.

She smiles. "Well, thank you for caring, Amelia. I really appreciate it."

Amelia smiles back. "You're welcome, Ally," she replies, then leans close and wraps her arms around her. She hugs her back, surprised at how much talking about him helped her feel better. And to a 7-year-old girl, of all people! She almost thinks she'll be able to make it through the rest of the day fine when Amelia decides to ask her one more question.

"Do you love him?"

She pulls back from the hug, surprised by such a question from someone so young. But then she figures with how well known he is and how well known she's becoming, there must be at least _some_ talk about them working together all the time. It shouldn't surprise her if someone suspected there was more to them. But as for her answer... well, what _can_ she tell her that won't hurt anybody?

So she smiles, then nods slowly. "Yeah. I do love him," she tells her. She's sure no harm will come to either of their careers by telling a 7-year-old this. And she's never been one to lie, anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>2:11PM<strong>

During his lunch break he doesn't even think about where he's going until it's too late and he's seated in their regular spot at their favourite restaurant. He considers faking a glance at the time and pretending he actually has somewhere else to be and walking out, but decides against it. He's starving and he almost doesn't care where he is to get something to eat. Almost. But it doesn't help when only 5 minutes later he hears the question, and he wonders why he's so surprised that somebody thought it.

"Where's your girlfriend?"

He looks up from his menu to a waiter standing in front of him. He's tempted to tell him off, say that it's none of his business, but he's never been one to do that, and he appreciates someone asking him out of curiosity and not just to see how he's holding up. But then he remembers he's not supposed to have a girlfriend, and quickly plasters on a confused look.

"Girlfriend?" he asks.

The waiter nods. "Yeah, girlfriend. You used to come in here a lot with this short brunette? On dates, I assume, unless holding hands isn't quite as romantic a notion as I thought."

Oh. He guesses he should've figured someone might've seen them together before everything that happened. But he wasn't about trying to hide their relationship then, and since they're not together anymore, what does it even matter what he says now?

He sighs, then nods slowly. "Yeah, she was my girlfriend."

"Was?" the waiter - Aaron, he reads on his nametag - asks. "What happened? If you don't mind my asking."

Oh, _now_ he asks. But he just shrugs in response. "It got complicated. Other things got in the way."

"Things? Like another guy?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Ah, that sucks," Aaron says. "I feel sorry for you, man. You two seemed good together."

"We thought so, too," he mutters to himself.

Aaron either doesn't hear him say this or has nothing more to add, as he then takes out his pen and notepad, then says, "Alright, I should probably take your order now."

He just laughs in agreement.

When he leaves later, he glances back at the restaurant as he walks. He probably won't be going back there for some time. Not unless he has her.

* * *

><p><strong>3:43PM<strong>

She has meet and greets in less than an hour, but all she can think of right now while she sits in her dressing room is him.

She's not alone at the moment - her backup singers are in here, too - so she keeps quiet. But she has her songbook sitting open in front of her so they must assume she's writing something new and leave her alone, which she appreciates.

How is she supposed to do this? Go out there with a big smile on her face and greet her fans like nothing's wrong? She's honestly surprised with herself that she's gone this long without falling apart yet. Holding herself together is not an easy task, and it doesn't help that the one thing that keeps them connected is the one thing keeping them apart. Music is supposed to be fun for her, it's her passion. But how is she supposed to live her dream when all it does is remind her of him?

She decides to get up and walk around for a bit. She can't go out into the lobby anymore - there's probably already a line up of fans waiting outside - so she sticks to walking around backstage.

As she walks, she passes a couple of familiar posters hanging in the hallway, and immediately she remembers. During his tour the year before, one of his stops was at this very venue. She guesses she's been in too much of a stupor all day to really pay attention to her surroundings, but now that she's aware, everything is a reminder, and none of it helps her mood.

She remembers a place he showed her last time they were here, and walks through the winding halls and a couple flights of stairs to find it. There's a balcony just above the stage, and when they stood up there, they could see the whole venue. It looked huge at the time, surreal that it was going to be filled with fans in a few hours. But standing up here now, without him, it just looks empty.

She leans against the railing and looks down. Most of her band is on the stage, some talking, others fooling around with their instruments. She's almost afraid one of them might look up and see her, maybe try and come up to where she is, but the balcony is high enough up that she thinks she should be fine. Nonetheless, she leans back, then turns and sits down, her back against the edge of the railing. Closing her eyes, she remembers the conversation they had when they sat up here.

"This place is huge," she had said, looking at the currently vacant venue. Even she couldn't believe it was going to be another full house that night, and it wasn't even her concert.

He nodded in agreement, taking everything in silently.

She looked at him. "How'd you know about this place, anyway? The balcony, I mean."

He faced her. "Dez and I came here once when we were...14, I think? Yeah. His dad was going to a convention in town, so we tagged along and managed to sneak into a concert one night. We saw the balcony and wanted to check it out, but, uh..." He laughed.

"You guys got caught, didn't you?" she asked, and right away she knew she was correct. She began to laugh along with him.

"Kind of ironic how I went from sneaking into venues to being the one playing in them," he said.

She nodded. "Life's funny that way sometimes, huh?"

He just nodded in agreement, then went back to looking out at the venue until it was time to go down for meet and greets.

Now, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and checks the time. They'll probably be wondering where she want off to by now. Reluctantly, she stands, then heads back the way she came. She can already hear the chattering of her fans waiting in the lobby for her, and she lets this put a small smile on her face. It's not perfect, but it's a start.

* * *

><p><strong>4:52PM<strong>

As he plays back his rewritten version of his song, he can tell Jimmy isn't impressed. And the further into the song they get, the worse his expression becomes.

Finally it finishes, and he hits the stop button.

"So," he starts slowly, "what did you think?"

Jimmy leans back in his chair, then takes a deep breath. "Why'd you change the song? It was perfectly fine the way it was before."

He shrugs. "It sounded sad," he admits.

Jimmy gives him a confused look, then says, "Sad? Yeah, I understand it's about a break up, but it wasn't that sad. _This_ is sad. It's too sad, in my opinion."

Now it's his turn to give his record owner a funny look. "How is this more sad than it was before?"

Jimmy sighs, then picks up the lyric sheet from the table. "First of all, you slowed it down. You already have 3 slow songs for the album, and as someone who normally sings upbeat pop songs, that's more than enough. Second is your lyric changes. You changed 'Late night movies, careless drinking/ To cover these scars' to 'Late night movies and I'm not moving/ You're just too far.' Why did you change that?"

He shrugs. "Because it's true," he mutters. When all he gets is a look in response, he says, "I don't know. It just sounded better to me. Plus, I don't drink carelessly, so I don't need people thinking I'm becoming alcoholic over a break up," he adds.

Jimmy just says, "It's just a song. No one's going to think you're actually drinking if there's nothing in the media that says you are." He scratches some lines out on the paper. "I'm scraping that change."

He just sits quietly and waits for the next complaint.

"Now, this one. You changed 'Pent up tension I cannot mention/ Cuts me to the bone' to 'All roads since you are wrong directions/ I'll never get home.' Why that change?" Jimmy asks, but he pairs it with a look that tells him he knows exactly what it means and he's not impressed that his best artist is feeling this way.

He says again, "Because it's true. The other lyrics just don't fit what I'm feeling. I mean, it just sounds sad, and it's not like I'm keeping all this 'tension' in. I put it into my songs."

Jimmy just shakes his head. "I don't know," he mutters. "As much as I find it a little depressing, I have to admit that, lyrically, it does have a better sound. We can keep this one." Then he proceeds to cross out the old lyrics.

Finally he moves on to the last change. "The bridge. You changed the line 'This was supposed to be the one' to 'You were supposed to be the one,' and since the line before it also starts with 'This,' I'm keeping it the original way. As for the next lines, you changed 'Maybe we stayed too long/ Maybe we played all wrong' to 'Why didn't I take the chance?/ Now I'm stuck missing your dance.' What's that about?"

He doesn't want to talk about, honestly. The original lyrics bugged him right away. They made it sound like something went wrong in their relationship, but nothing was wrong. It was perfect. It made him wish he'd taken a chance and fought for them, for her. All he can think every day anymore is 'What if?' What if he had said something to stop her? What if he did tell the world about them? Would he still be where he is, in a recording studio with an increasingly annoying record owner? Would he have lost his music? Would he have lost her? He's still not sure. All he knew was her, and now he doesn't even have that. He misses her. Her smile, her laugh, even her weird dancing, something he's come to love about her. But he doesn't say any of this. He can't.

He shrugs. All he says is, "Because it's true," again. And he leaves it at that.

With no real explanation to work with, he watches Jimmy cross out his rewritten lyrics. As much as he hates the original ones, it seems he's stuck with them. He seems to be stuck with a lot of things lately.

* * *

><p><strong>5:39PM<strong>

Meet and greets ran a little later than they were supposed to, but she still has enough free time before she has to be ready to perform at 7. And apparently that time will be spent catching up with her best friend, something she realizes when she opens the door to her dressing room and hears her name being shouted, followed by someone slamming into her in a hug.

She gasps in surprise, then wraps her arms around her friend. "Trish!" she says into the hug. "What are you doing here?"

Trish pulls away, then begins walking back to the couch and sitting down before talking. When they're both seated, she says, "I was in town with the boy band," she replies, continuing on with her trend of talking about the boy band in a British accent. Then she laughs and - without the accent - says, "We came to check out one of the record labels interested in signing them, and then I remembered you were in New York, too! I couldn't not stop by to say hi."

She smiles, happy to see her best friend again. They haven't seen each other since they parted ways in Miami, but she wasn't expecting a reunion until her show in LA in a month.

"Well, I'm glad you stopped by," she says. "I've missed you!"

"I've missed you, too," Trish says, then hugs her best friend again. After, she asks her about touring, and they get talking for some time about her days on the road, giving her a nice break from her own mind for once. And him.

But eventually Trish puts on a serious expression, and she knows what's coming even before it's asked. "So. How are you doing?" she asks.

Her smile fades, and she shrugs. "I'm alright, I guess."

"Really?" She sets her hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner. "You're not going crazy missing Aus -"

"Don't say his name," she cuts in. "Please."

Trish sighs. She's quiet for a minute, thinking over her next words. Then she says, "You know, you don't have to go through this alone. I am here for you, even if I can't be with you in person."

She nods in understanding. "I know." She pauses. "It's just - I thought I would find a way to get over it, you know? I mean, _I_ broke up with _him_, that has to have meant _something_. I thought I would be stronger than this. I-I thought I could distract myself from him, but instead _everything_ reminds me of him. I see him everywhere, Trish. Letting go of him is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold myself together."

It's the first time she's ever really talked about the break up to anyone, and it hits her hard. She doesn't want to cry, but the tears start flowing and she can't seem to be able to stop them. Trish envelops her in another hug, and she wraps her arms around her, crying into her shoulder. Who knew break ups could hurt this much? Even the first time they broke up over a year ago, when things between them didn't seem to be working out as a couple, didn't hurt her as much as this. Funny how the tables turned, how they went from not being able to behave as themselves in a relationship to not knowing how to act when not in one. She's been so confused since that night, knowing they're still best friends but not sure how to be that anymore. She's in love with him, and she never got to tell him that, and now she's not sure she ever can.

Finally she pulls back, and Trish gives her a sad smile. "You feel better?"

She nods, wiping away the last of her tears. "I think so." She pauses. "Thank you."

Trish gives her a confused look. "For what?" she asks.

"For coming tonight. Letting me talk to you - and cry, it seems." They both laugh at this. Then she continues with, "And for being my best friend."

Trish smiles. "I'll always be your best friend," she says.

She smiles at this - a real, genuine smile. "I know," she replies. They hug once more before Trish checks the time, then stands.

"Well, I guess I better go. You have to be on stage in 30 minutes," she says.

Her smile fades, but not too much that Trish notices. "I guess I'll see you in LA, then?"

Trish nods. "Guess so."

And with a final hug and a goodbye her best friend leaves, and once again she's left alone with her thoughts. But she still turns to the closet in the room and takes out her dress for tonight, then begins to get ready to put on a show.

* * *

><p><strong>6:17PM<strong>

He's taking a break from working on another song when his phone rings. When he sees who it is, he manages to smile a little and hits answer.

"Dez! What's up?" he says.

"Hey!" his best friend shouts. "I just got out of class. What have you been up to?"

He shrugs. "Recording again. Trying to write. Nothing new. How's school been?" he asks.

Dez replies with, "Amazing!" then proceeds to talk about all the incredible things his school has taught him and about LA and how it's been living on his own. It's refreshing to hear about how much his best friend has accomplished in the past month, and it makes him happy. Despite how much he misses hanging out with Dez on a daily basis, he's glad he's going after what he wants.

Eventually he gets talking about Carrie, and just from the tone of his voice he can tell things are going well. It bums him out a little, though, hearing about his best friend's relationship while he's no longer in one. And it only gets worse when he brings it up.

"So," Dez starts, "how are you holding up?"

He takes a deep breath. He asks him this question every day, and every day he gives him the same answer. "Alright, I guess."

Dez sighs. "You don't sound alright," he replies.

He doesn't respond, and just looks at his half-finished songs sitting in front of him. They have this conversation every day about her. Dez asks how he is, and when he says he's fine, his best friend questions him. And he's right to. He's not alright. He hasn't been since that night they broke up. But what else can he say? It's been a month, and he's still not over her. He's still in love with her, but he can't say it. He can't tell anybody until he tells her. And he _will_ tell her. He just doesn't know when.

Dez takes his silence as a confirmation, then says, "You can talk to me, you know. After all, I am _the Love Whisperer_," he adds, following through with his tradition of whispering the words 'the Love Whisperer'.

This causes him the laugh, even if the whispering does get on his nerves sometimes. "Whatever," he replies, not even bothering to contradict him. He takes a moment to think before saying, "I know I can talk to you, Dez. I just don't want to talk about...you know. Her. I still need time."

"I get it," Dez says. "You're heartbroken, and it sucks. But sometimes it does help a little to talk it out with someone. Because you aren't alone in this. I'm here for you - literally."

He laughs again. "You still don't know what literally means, do you?" he asks.

"Not at all."

He smiles, glad to know his best friend hasn't changed that much since leaving. He's about to reply when he hears the door open behind him, and turns to see some of his band walking in. Break must be over.

He turns back to his phone call. "I gotta go record now. Talk to you later?"

Dez laughs, then says, "Yeah, sure. See ya."

"See ya."

He hangs up, sitting quietly as the rest of his band files into the room. It's time to record again.

* * *

><p><strong>7:04PM<strong>

She's standing backstage as her band starts up the music for her first song. She begins bouncing up and down on her toes, anxious to get on stage and start singing. Her conversation with Trish definitely helped lift her spirits a little, and the sound of her fans shouting her name from the crowd is filling her with a warm feeling that makes her smile. Then she hears her cue and runs on, ready to start tonight's show.

He showed his band his changes for the song, and they're all for it. They set up the music for the song at the tempo he wants (still slow, despite Jimmy's protest of already having too many slow songs), then usher him into the recording booth. Once inside, they hit the record button and give him the go. Taking a deep breath, he starts.

Originally, the first song on her set list wasn't going to be performed at all during the tour. But after the break up, she talked to Ronnie and insisted that she performed it. It's not one of her personal favourites, but it holds a special place in her heart. "Don't Look Down" was the song she sang when she performed on stage for the first time, and with some minor changes, she's able to perform it solo. And the crowd loves it every night. It's never the same without him up there next to her, but it reminds her of that night, and the thrill she felt from performing, and it always puts a smile on her face.

The song he sings, "Bumper Cars," is supposed to be about his current relationship with her - or their inability to be in a relationship, really. The song talks about wondering about her and what she's thinking (is she thinking of him, too?); it talks about how much they want to be together, but knowing they can't, and how something always seems to get in their way (why is music the one thing stopping them from being with each other? Anything but that would've been better than this); it talks about what they were and what might've went wrong, and what they could've been if they'd only figured out the problem ahead of time and fixed it (but there was no problem, he thinks. There was nothing wrong. They were perfect together). The song covers so many of his thoughts on their relationship, his fears and feelings. And though it makes him sad to think about, it manages to put a smile on his face as he sings.

The song finishes, and she can't contain her smile as the crowd cheers. Surprisingly, it's almost enough to fill the ever present hole in her heart from him. Almost. But she lets it in anyway, yearning to be free from her constant suffering, even if only for some time. She waves to the crowd, getting them excited for the rest of the night. Then she turns to her band behind her and nods, starting up the next song. And with a smile, she sings.

He finishes singing, feeling exhausted but satisfied. He didn't quite notice it at the time, but thinking back he realizes how much emotion he poured into the song. As he sang, his thoughts were all of them and their time together, and the way he felt about her. Sure, he's sang emotionally-driven songs before, but not like this, not one he can relate to so much. It's the first time he thinks he's ever felt so strongly about a song before (besides "Steal Your Heart" maybe), and when he finally looks up and sees everyone's expressions, he knows right then and there that it's bound to be a hit.

* * *

><p><strong>8:48PM<strong>

She closes the door on her dressing room slowly, not wanting the night to be over just yet. Her band is busy on stage packing up their equipment, so the hallway is empty and quiet as she walks to the end of it alone, then outside into the cool air of New York. There's a couple people walking around the parking lot, but nobody stops to talk as she walks to her bus and inside. The minute the door shuts behind her, she's sealed off from the real world, and her exhaustion catches up to her.

She sits her bag down on the kitchen table, then falls to the couch, tired. Grabbing her phone, she checks to see if she got any messages while on stage. As usual, she has message from Trish wishing her luck on tonight's show. Dez texted her, too, also wishing her luck and then asking her if she could find the 'Big Apple' and bring it to him for when they meet up in LA, saying he wanted to use it for one of his movies (it seems big props were still his 'thing'). She laughs, but it's short-lived. No messages left from him for her to read. Expected and usual, but it doesn't fail to disappoint her nonetheless.

She thinks about texting him first. She's thought about calling, but she did that once before and the minute the voicemail picked up and she heard his voice, she panicked and hung up. Texting is easier. At least he wouldn't be able to hear her voice waver.

She pulls up his name in her phone and prepares to send a message, but stops. What could she say to him? She decides to start simple.

_Hey._

She frowns. She's always hated one-word texters, and she doesn't want him to think she has nothing more to say to him. Because she has so much she wants to tell him. She just doesn't know how to say it. She erases the message and types something else.

_So, how's the studio been treating you? Made any hits yet?_

Simple and casual. But it's too casual for her liking, sounding as if they just spoke the other day. She doesn't want that to be the first thing she asks him after a month of nothing. She erases it, then types the one thing she wants to say to him.

_I miss you._

Right away, she erases it again, then shuts off her phone, setting it beside her. Telling him that will only hurt them both, and she doesn't want their conversation to be one filled only with their silent wishes of wanting to be together again. She wants to just _talk_ to him, like they used to. But after a month, she's not sure what to say to him anymore. The silence is deafening, but it beats the screaming sound of heartbreak whenever she tries to move past what they were.

She gets up from the couch and heads to bed. It's not late, but if she wants to get up on time tomorrow, she's going to need all the sleep she can get. And it beats lying awake with only her thoughts of him to keep her company.

* * *

><p><strong>9:22PM<strong>

Recording ran late tonight, but his parents have stopped questioning the time he comes home on the days when he's in the studio. They simply wave hi and let him be as he walks up the stairs into his room, shutting the door behind him slowly and lying on his bed, facing the ceiling. He only stays still for a minute in the silence before sitting up and pulling his phone out of his pocket to check for any messages he might've missed.

Though him and Dez try and talk every day, he still received a text from him while he was busy recording. All it says is _call me if you still want to talk_, but he ignores this. He knows what he wants to talk about, but he's still not ready to. He also has a message from Trish - one that must be important, since the only time she's able to text him now is when it's about his music, a photo of her in a random town scouting record labels for the boy band, or her. This time it reads _I saw her today, at her concert in New York. She misses you still_.

She still misses him? As much as this gives him a sliver of hope that there's still a chance for them, that she's not over him, even while she's living her dream, he also hopes she's not driving herself insane like he is. He wants her to enjoy her time on tour. He would hate it if it all went by in the blink of an eye for her because of the break up (even though he spent a fair amount of time missing her on his first tour - but things were different between them then).

He decides to pull her name up on his phone, thinking of texting her to see how her tour has been so far. They haven't talked at all since the day she left, him waiting for her to text or call first, as she's on such a busy schedule. But he also hasn't found the words to say to her yet, missing her too much and not wanting that to show in his texts to her.

Finally he settles on something he thinks might work, and types:

_Hey, how's the tour been so far?_

He reads over it, thinking it might be okay, but doesn't press send. It seems too simple of a text to send to someone as complex as her. He also doesn't want her to think that's all he cares about, her tour. He cares about so much more than that, but he has too much to say and not enough words to say it with. He erases what he wrote and types something else.

_It's been way too long since we last talked. How are you?_

He frowns a little as he reads the text over. It's still too simple, and it feels like it's missing something important. Plus, she knows it's been a while since they last spoke; he doesn't want to be the one to remind her of that. Not knowing what else to say, he erases it and types the only thing he can think of whenever he thinks about her.

_I miss you_.

He shakes his head and erases it, then sets his phone down beside him. He can't just come out and tell her that after a month of nothing. Would she even believe him? The only time he ever tried to call her was that first week of her tour when he was stuck figuring out a song, but she was never there to answer, and he never bothered leaving a message. Whether she knew he called or not, he doesn't know. Either way, telling her he missed her felt like he was crossing a line they weren't supposed to touch anymore.

He sets his phone on his desk and gets changed for bed. He's never been one to go to bed at such an early time, but has nothing better to do than sleep anymore (even video games have lost their appeal now that he no longer has someone to play against). It beats sitting around waiting for a miracle to happen. But as he sleeps, he lets himself hope that tomorrow might be different.

* * *

><p><strong>So that's the story. Why I went ahead and wrote this even after the finale ended (sort of) happily, idk, but I wanted to. Oh, and I should probably say that the lyric changes Austin made in the song are mine, so anything not in the real song I made up (aren't I just a great songwriter? It seems I think I'm funny, too, wow), and in this story, Austin (still) knows how to write songs. So yeah. Thanks for reading!<strong>


End file.
